Poodle I Am Not
by false sourires
Summary: England and America talk over breakfast.


Disclaimer: Not a professional writer, so no to owning Hetalia or Time.

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><p><strong>Poodle, I Am Not<strong>

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><p>Sunlight flittered through the many glass panes of America's sunroom. England relaxed into his chair soaking in the vibrant rays that hadn't graced his home so vigorously in several weeks. This had been one of his most enjoyable stays in America's house in a long time, and he almost mourned that he would be returning home on the morrow. Too many things needed to be done though. At the very least he could savor this one amicable Sunday with Alfred. He had forgotten how tranquil America was on Sunday mornings, and knew he'd have to relish the rarely seen maturity for the short while it lasted. Stretching lazily, he looked over the room before his gaze settled on a stack of magazines shuffled over an end table. He might as well read while America was cooking breakfast in the kitchen. His offers of help had been brusquely declined, but at least he'd been allowed to make his own tea. Getting up he perused the different magazines, eventually grabbing one that caught his interest before sitting back down.<p>

America peeked around the open door to check on England. His eyes honed in on the title, and with lilting lips he turned back to the kitchen to finish breakfast. A reading Iggy, was a happy Iggy. Besides America had a no disturbing engrossed readers policy on Sunday mornings. Sunday morning was a sacred time to read, jog or participate in otherwise relaxing unhurried activities. Turning off the stove, he scooped the eggs and bacon out of the pan and onto two plates. Grabbing the toast out of the toaster he set a slice on each plate, before placing the plates on tray with a jar of jam and silverware on it. Opening the fridge he pulled out an orange and rinsed it off before slicing it into quarters which he placed on the plates. Next he pulled a mug out of a cupboard and poured some freshly made coffee into it. Looking around one last time, he spotted a newspaper he'd bought while jogging earlier, and added it to the tray. Might as well have something to read while Iggy was immersed in his magazine.

Returning to the sunroom, he set all the dishes out while England remained focused on his reading. After placing the tray on a clear end table he sat down and unfolded his paper. Alfred loved reading the paper to the disbelief of many. Nothing else provided him the wider instantaneous array of subjects to badger his boss about. Water cooler baiting other politicians was a favorite hobby of his, and a great way to meet all the Capitol Hill newbies. A rustling sound alerted him to the fact that Iggy had finished his reading. Lowering the paper, he stared as the Englishman fixed his servings to his liking.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you this over breakfast lad, but we are over."

Alfred snorted as Arthur took a sip of his tea. He was glad to know Arthur had read the article like he'd intended.

"Really? Then I expect you to pay for your stay here." Alfred quipped good-naturedly.

"Sorry, can't do that lad. Unfair balance of benefits and all that seeing as you've stayed over at my house more often than I have here." Never let it be said Arthur backed down from a challenge.

"Well then I suppose I'll have to downgrade you to the old doghouse." Not that he'd ever had a dog to begin with.

"I am no one's tame poodle." Alfred bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the thought of Arthur with a poodle cut. Francis would mercilessly mock his attempts at improving his hairstyle.

"Oh good, I hate poodles. Labrador Retrievers and German Shepherds are the only way to go." Steady, friendly and devoutly loyal dogs. And about as mischievous as the glint in Arthur's eyes.

"Odd, I would have thought you'd go for those little teacup dogs that seem so popular nowadays." Too easy Arthur, too easy.

"Obviously lack of listening was obviously one of the reasons we ended it. By now I would expect you to know how much I hate anything to do with tea. "

"_We_ ended it? I am quite sure that I ended it." Arthur crowed victoriously.

"I can see why you're mistaken for a dog, drinking vile stuff out of a saucer and all." Not to mention that high-pitched yammer just now.

"That's cats you prat." Like Americat would ever drink tea. He wouldn't even touch coffee.

"S'pose that explains the listening then." Arthur was definitely displaying catlike tendencies with the way his back primly stretched, and he threw a 'you're beneath me' look.

"This immaturity and incessant need to win is obviously why I had to call it quits. A relationship needs level-headedness and compromise to survive." Yes, because he was the only immature one, Mr. I-Still-Gloat-About-Defeating-The-Spanish-Armada. Wonder where he'd learned that trait from.

"At least Francis will be ecstatic that you're ready to talk relationships with him. You can explore the wonders of l'amour with each other." About as long as it would take for Arthur to punch Francis for having wandering hands.

"A bulldog and a poodle mix as well as water and oil lad." Cooking advice Arthur? Sound cooking advice?

"Funny that you would mention bulldogs." Because Alfred had never forgotten the day Winston explained it to them.

"Yes, well necessity and circumstances and all." And a Prime Minister that knew to tell his hot-blooded nation controversial information away from projectile breakable objects. Alfred was still sure he'd had a betting pool going on with Franklin about the number of curses that Arthur had spewed before calming down.

"Mmmhmm, special circumstances for special relationships." Was that a blush on Arthur's cheeks?

"Circumstances change." More like went in circles.

"Relationships too." There were so many ways to define a relationship though, and just as many types of relationship.

Sharing a tender knowing grin they dug into their breakfast wholeheartedly. Nothing had changed. Upon finishing, Alfred stood up to clear away the dishes. Returning to the sunroom he saw that Arthur had pulled out another magazine. What caught his attention was the vividly candid smile on Arthur's lip that was so atypical of the reserved gentleman. As his own lips stretched out in pleasure, his eyes met the mirthful eyes of Arthur.

"Best mates then?"

"Depends, is that like friends with benefits?"

Arthur's chortles filled the room with warmth that rivaled that of the many sunbeams.

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>:

Inspired by the Time headline "Why Britain's Affair with the U.S. is Over" from March 2010. Someone doesn't ship USUK.

I figured England and America wouldn't take the article too seriously being more aware of their evolving relations over the years than any politician. Thus they joke about it over a peaceful breakfast. Why should they ruin their breakfast over things that are out of their hands after all? Amusingly while Labrador Retrievers and German Shepherds rank as America's favorite breeds, bulldogs and poodles make the top ten. This was really only meant to be harmless fluff, so don't take it seriously.

How I come up with titles? Whatever sounds zaniest goes, but really it was loosely taken from the article.

~False Sourires


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